Death to Disney V2
by Xiaolink Volumen
Summary: Behold, the rewrite! Anyway, Mickey, Donald, Goofy, and Sora meet less than pleasant ends at the hands of Ansem! R and R, if ye don't mind! OMG, finished!
1. Chapter 1

Alrighty then! Here it is, the rewrite to Death to Disney! Written mostly under the influence of cookies and the Gungrave OST's. So there. …Well, this chapter, anyway. The others were written under the influence of late nights, the Wolf's Rain OST, and Malice Mizer (squee!).

-O-

Prologue

Wind gusted and howled through Traverse Town, whistling through the eaves of the buildings in the First District. The wind was cold as ice in midwinter and sharp as a knife's edge, leading the inhabitants to turn their collars up over their ears and hunch their shoulders against the chill. Absorbed in their own individual thoughts and tasks, they hurried onward, not desiring to be out in the cold any longer than necessary. They all ignored the bloodstained heap against the wall at the entrance to the alley.

It started to rain, a frigid, driving rain, blown diagonal by the winds. The drops were colder than the wind and most unpleasant, so the inhabitants hurried ever faster. Lashed by the wind and rain, the heap shivered.

The heap was actually a man, a dark-skinned impressive looking man with thick silver hair, clearly in his prime. From a distance, he appeared perfect, whole and uninjured. But a closer inspection revealed purpling bruises, numerous bleeding cuts, and a curious lump on his chest: broken ribs. His left arm hung from his shoulder at an impossible angle. His hair, usually so luxurious, was lank and matted with dried blood.

He looked up, fierce golden-orange eyes dulled and glazed by pain. He watched the endless stream of passerby for a moment, reflecting how close he'd been to destroying them all. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his good arm around them, closing in on himself, trying desperately to keep warm. The face of his lover hovered for a moment in his mind's eye as he sighed, touching his chin to his knees. It'd been so long since they'd seen each other…

The man's name was Ansem.

Idly, he glanced up at the humans rushing by, all traveling as one pack in one direction, a shivering mass of energy, dark thoughts, and the general cluttered, chaotic aura all humans seemed to possess. He closed his eyes, not observing the one different one. She moved against the flow, her step almost a glide, fluid and catlike, radiating an aura of order and sense. Her step was slow and deliberate, but not once was she buffeted or jostled by the crowd.

Ansem's eyes opened again as he felt the rain slacken somewhat. He looked up and saw the different one holding an umbrella over him.

She was pale, so much so that she seemed dead. The wind blew her long black raincoat flat against her lithe form, flapping and swirling around her ankles and shining, polished shoes. Her long brown hair, loosely tied back with a black silk ribbon, hid her faintly glowing silver eyes, the only truly alive-looking part of her. Her hands were encased in tight black leather gloves, the left holding the umbrella and the right resting casually on a gold-tipped, ebony cane. Rainwater dripped from the brim of her black stovepipe hat, the red silk band damp and dull.

They stared at each other for some time. Eventually the girl spoke.

"Your heart… is perhaps… the darkest I've yet to meet," she murmured. Her voice was deep, like a boy's. "But…" Her eyes traveled over Ansem's broken form. "…You are gravely wounded."

Ansem narrowed his eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked hoarsely, voice rasping painfully in his throat.

"You would have been perfect. But you are too broken…" she continued, ignoring Ansem. "Perhaps this is my own pessimism speaking, but you don't look long for this world."

Ansem chuckled softly. That wasn't exactly news to him. The girl bent to his level and leaned closer to him.

"I can heal you, make you more powerful than before," she said quietly. "I know who you are. You are Ansem, the seeker of darkness. You unleashed the Heartless into the worlds, and discovered the heart of all worlds, Kingdom Hearts. You tried to find your way into ultimate darkness, but you were thwarted by the Keyblade master and the king. Am I not correct?"

Ansem blinked. The girl's knowledge of him and his past was surprising, to say the least.

"With my help, you can slay the Keyblade master and the king, as well as the king's lackeys and any foolish enough to oppose you," she went on.

"Why should I trust you?" Ansem replied. "You said it yourself, I'm dying. I know my time is up. I failed, so why should I think I could try again? There is no second chance when dealing with the heart. I have but one regret, and I don't intend on sharing it with you."

"I can allow you to see your lover one last time, at the least."

That shocked Ansem.

"How did you…?"

"Your heart is an open book right now. As you sit dying, anyone with the ability can come along and see into the deepest reaches of your heart."

Ansem shook his head. "I'm not sure I believe you," he said. "The Keyblade master, the king, and those fools serving him are the ones that reduced me to this in the first place. How can I triumph over them if they defeated me once?"

"So you're just going to give up?"

Ansem laughed, then winced horribly and clutched his ribs. "I'm not in a position to do much else, am I?" he replied through gritted teeth. "Besides, how do I know I can trust you?"

The girl laughed, a horrible, low laugh that made Ansem's blood run cold.

"You don't," she answered. "But look at it this way: What choice do you have?"

"I can sit here and die quietly rather than possibly violently."

"You would die like a dog when I am offering you a chance to slay your greatest foes?"

That made Ansem think. Regardless of what she did later, she was offering him a second chance. Second chances were not offered very often. He could kill the king and that wretched Keyblade master. He might be able to see his lover once more. And, whatever he said to the contrary, Ansem did not want to die like some beaten cur in the rain in the alley of Traverse Town… it was far too intriguing to let pass.

"I accept."

The girl grinned, thin lips sliding away from pearly white teeth. Two long fangs winked at Ansem. Traverse Town melted and dissolved before his eye. For a moment, for one horrible, long moment, Ansem thought he'd died anyway. He was trapped in some sort of limbo, incapable of moving one way or the other, it was dreadfully cold, the cold was cutting into him like daggers…

…And then the cold was gone. Warmth seeped into his bruised and bloodied form, numbing his numerous hurts. The scenery returned a moment later, a darkened apartment.

Tall mahogany bookshelves lined the cream-coloured walls, their thick denizens bound in dark shades of red, blue, and green cloth, black and brown leather here and there. A highly varnished black desk sat in one corner, a book and lone candle resting on its polished surface. A low, Greek-styled couch sat against the wall, a low table in front of it. There was a book here, too. The thick, plush carpet was deep wine-red, matching the curtains on the bay windows.

"Where are we?" Ansem asked, looking around.

"My home. Or one of them," the girl replied, hanging up her coat and umbrella. Ansem noticed they were bone-dry. Under the coat, the girl wore a black suit, white shirt, blood-red waistcoat, and black silk tie. She turned back to Ansem, pulling a pair of black wire-rimmed glasses out of thin air.

"Now, then…" she said. "Before you bleed all over my carpet…" Her fingers flashed in the air in front of her, and a glowing symbol appeared in front of her, roughly level with her shoulders. It hovered for a moment, emitting a cold, eldritch light. The girl murmured something unintelligible, and the symbol shot forward. It struck Ansem square in the chest.

Almost immediately ice blossomed over the point of impact. It swiftly turned crimson as the blood on his chest froze. The ice spread, searing like white-hot knives over every centimetre of his form. He cried out in pain, doubling over. Ice cracked loudly and reformed as he moved, every movement bringing a sweeping wave of pain. A rush of images assaulted his consciousness, and, unable to process them all at once, he blacked out.

-

Ansem awoke on the couch, aware that his wounds had healed. He felt a power coursing through him the likes of which he'd never known. He cautiously laid a hand on his chest, and discovered no broken ribs. He sat up and looked around. The girl sat at her desk reading the book, silver eyes skimming back and forth behind her glasses. Ansem noticed she now wore white silk gloves. She glanced up and saw him.

"Ah, marvelous," she said, snapping her book shut. "You live. You slept like the dead, and for a moment I thought I was incorrect. But no matter. The point is you live now, so my hypothesis was correct. For you, at least."

"What did you do?" Ansem asked.

"One of my more clever ideas," the girl replied, a smug grin on her face. "I once had a thought that if a person was mortally wounded, a transfusion of heart would save them. In essence, I gave you part of my heart. Unprecedented, to be sure. I am positive you can vouch for this."

Ansem nodded, struck dumb. In all of his research, he'd never heard of someone giving away part of their heart. No one had thought to try.

"My name is Reivanlocke, by the way," she said. She extended a gloved hand. Slowly Ansem approached her and took it, wondering who exactly she was and what he'd just gotten himself into.

-end prologue-

Rawr. I still think Reivanlocke seems like an Anne Rice reject, but now she seems more like Rip van Winkle from "Hellsing." I suspect it's the tie and the glasses. Reivanlocke doesn't wield a musket, as anyone who read the first (coughcough) crappy (coughcough) version would know… I have three pics of her up on my DeviantART account, BTW…


	2. Chapter 2

Mmm-hmm. Yep, this is actually the Donald and Goofy chapter. Donald's going to meet with a different end, since the original way seemed too indirectly connected to Ansem. Incidentally this'll be the chappie with teh yaoi. This one was written under the influence of J-rock (Malice Mizer and Moi dix Mois), so don't bug me if it gets weird.

This'll be set up in three parts, like scenes, 'kay?

-/The Gruesome Deaths of Donald and Goofy\-

-Scene One: Enter the players-

Sephiroth jerked awake. He had been dozing slightly on his couch when someone had rung his doorbell. Slightly confused, he stood and walked to the door. His eyes widened.

Ansem stood on the other side, watching him with interest.

For a moment neither spoke. Then Ansem spoke.

"You haven't changed at all, my love," he murmured.

"Oh god…" Sephiroth breathed as he collapsed into Ansem's arms. Ansem held him close, stroking his hair. "I missed you… where were you?"

"You don't want to know," Ansem replied. He and Sephiroth headed back inside, hand in hand. They sat on the couch, leaning against each other. Sephiroth cuddled close to Ansem, nuzzling his face against Ansem's neck.

"Ansem… I heard… things… terrible things…" Sephiroth murmured. "I heard… you were…"

"Shh, shh," Ansem whispered. "Don't worry…" He petted Sephiroth's hair soothingly. He gently tipped Sephiroth's head back and kissed him deeply. Sephiroth's fingers knotted themselves in Ansem's shirt as he fell back against the couch, pulling Ansem with him. Ansem drew back and gazed into his lover's eyes.

"I missed you," Sephiroth murmured again. Ansem sighed and smiled.

"I missed you too," he replied. He kissed along Sephiroth's neck, along his jaw line, up to his lips. Here he paused for a long, passionate kiss that left them breathless. Panting slightly, Ansem tugged on Sephiroth's shirt, finally pulling it away. Movements quickening, they pressed themselves together, Sephiroth relieving Ansem of his shirt.

Their chests heaved as they kissed again; it was as if they were trying to make sure the other was there, that this wasn't a dream, and they were really together again. Sephiroth moaned softly as they parted. He moaned again as Ansem began to kiss his chest, and Sephiroth tangled his fingers in Ansem's hair. Sephiroth took hold of Ansem's face and kissed him hard. They started to fall off the couch, but neither made any move to slow their fall.

They toppled off the couch, landing with a thud. Neither cared as they continued exploring each other, fingers dancing over bared skin. By then, Ansem had completely forgotten why he was there in the first place. All he could think about was his lover moaning below him. The only thought in his mind was Sephiroth, how much he loved him, how much he'd missed him, how much he so fully wanted him.

And Sephiroth's mind was fogged; he was unable to form one coherent thought due to Ansem's weight atop him. He gave in completely to Ansem, needing him so much that any and all forms of resistance melted away. He kissed him as fiercely as he could, holding him close as their tongues seemed to battle for supremacy. Sephiroth's fingers were tangled in Ansem's hair, pulling rather painfully, but Ansem didn't notice.

Gasping harshly, they drew apart, lips swollen and slightly bruised. Moaning softly at the lack of contact, Sephiroth desperately pulled Ansem close again, hands raking over his lover's back and arms. He brushed his lips over Ansem's collarbone, fingers tracing over Ansem's tense stomach. Ansem distracted him by running his tongue over the supple skin at Sephiroth's neck. Sephiroth moaned loudly.

That night, they made up for all the time spent apart.

-

They were lying on the couch, utterly spent. Sephiroth was cuddled up to Ansem, head resting on his bare chest. They'd thrown a blanket over themselves, and Sephiroth was starting to fall asleep, one hand idly toying with a few strands of his lover's hair. Ansem didn't mind too much. He lay there, quietly enjoying Sephiroth's warm form against him. He too started to slip off, Sephiroth dozing against him. Then he remembered why he was there.

"Sephiroth?" he murmured, gazing down at his lover. Sephiroth woke and looked up at him.

"…What?"

"Can you still do necromancy?"

-Scene Two: Goofy-

Goofy awoke in an overgrown graveyard. He blinked. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the field.

He looked around. Most of the gravestones were broken and crumbling into dust, though a few here and there remained intact. Long grass had grown over the graves, dead flowers occasionally resting against a few graves. The place looked as though it hadn't been taken care of for some time.

Goofy cast the graves a wary look. He jumped as a crow cawed from a skeletal tree. He whipped around to stare at it. The crow glared at him with beady black eyes. It cocked its head and cawed at Goofy again. It spread its wings and flew away, towards the forest. Goofy turned his gaze ahead and beheld a rundown church.

The church was in a worse state of disrepair than the graveyard. Most of the stained glass windows were broken, leaving large gaps in the images they carried. The shutters slammed against the walls in the wind, most of them missing slats. The door hung open at an angle, revealing thick inky darkness within. Goofy shuddered. It reminded him too much of Kingdom Hearts. Slowly he advanced into the church.

Wrinkling his nose at the musty smell, he looked around. All the pews were askew and covered with dust. Goofy gripped his shield tightly and carefully headed in, his feet making soft noises in the dust. Some of the glass from the windows lay on the floor. Leaves occasionally fluttered in his wake as he passed.

"What are you doing here?"

Goofy looked up at the voice. "I dunno," he replied. "I just sorta wandered in."

The speaker was an extremely thin priest clad in a hooded robe. His robes hung loosely from his frame. Goofy got the feeling that even the tightest robes would have been loose on him. His hood hid his face, but Goofy thought his voice sounded familiar.

"Well, would you care to pray? Perhaps you can discover why you're here," the priest said. Goofy nodded and advanced to the altar. It too was covered with dust, though the candles showed signs of being recently tended. Goofy looked up at the large statue of the Virgin Mary. Her carved face gazed down with an austere expression, the shadows on her face only serving to make the statue even eerier. Goofy cowered.

The doors slammed open in a gust of wind, and Goofy panicked. He whipped around and lashed out at the priest. The robes crumpled like empty rags.

"For shame. It's a sin to kill a priest, you know, even if it was just a construct."

Goofy whipped around at the sound of that horribly familiar voice. Ansem stood near the altar, perilously close to Goofy. He grinned broadly.

"You'd better run," he admonished. "Standing around gawping will get you nowhere. I'll give you twenty minutes." A brass clock appeared in the air next to him. The minute hand began to spin as Ansem spoke again. "Starting now."

Goofy ran. He turned around and darted out of the church, through the graveyard. Something grabbed his ankle and he fell hard. He twisted around and saw a decayed hand clinging resolutely to him. He cried out and slammed it with his shield. The hand released him, and he scrambled to his feet.

"Fifteen minutes!"

Goofy stopped at the forest's edge and turned behind him. The surfaces of the graves were cracking, discharging their inhabitants, all in varying stages of decay. Some were mostly intact, while others were merely walking skeletons. He cried out in horror, and turned and ran again. He kept running until he tripped over something.

He slammed headfirst into a tree. He groaned and rolled over, trying to see what he'd stepped on. A man stepped out of the trees. He looked similar to Ansem, though his hair was far longer, and his eyes were blue. He was gazing down at Goofy with contempt. Ansem stepped out of the trees to stand next to him.

"He's… clumsy," the newcomer said. "He failed to watch where he was going, though he was running for his life. He tripped over my foot."

"Well, it doesn't matter. His twenty minutes are up," Ansem said. A zombie shuffled out of the trees, mostly intact except for a gaping hole on its side. Intestines and entrails spilled from the hole.

The zombie shuffled over to the dazed Goofy and took him by the neck. It shook him hard. Goofy's head flopped from side to side, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He made a choking noise; then was silenced. His neck snapped, and the zombie paused. It shook him again.

"He's dead," Sephiroth said to the zombie. It turned its muddy eyes on him and stared at him. "Do what you will." The zombie dropped Goofy's corpse, then bent to his neck. The zombie began gnawing at him, tearing him apart, slowly devouring him. When the zombie had gnawed off Goofy's head and eaten it, it left the corpse and returned to the graveyard.

Ansem turned to Sephiroth.

"Thanks, my love," he murmured. He embraced Sephiroth, and the two stood in each other's arms for a moment. Ansem kissed Sephiroth, twining their fingers together. They slowly drew apart.

"When will you be back?" Sephiroth asked, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes.

"As soon as I can, beloved," Ansem replied, touching his forehead to Sephiroth's. Silently, Sephiroth teleported away, leaving Ansem alone with Goofy's corpse. Ansem stared at it for a minute, then smirked.

-Scene Three: Donald-

Donald quacked loudly, tapping his foot on the oily city streets. He looked around. He was in a city, a damp, dark, slummy city where no one in their right mind would go willingly. The buildings were old and decrepit, with broken and boarded up windows. The few people out and about were either unfortunate homeless souls or drunk. Some were merely men who'd been kicked out by their wives. Donald glanced up at the sky.

Thick, heavy clouds were building, threatening rain. The few working streetlights threw down shimmering orange circles, revealing homeless people sitting against the posts. Donald warily passed them, heading to a small kiosk on the corner. Unfamiliar symbols were visible on its blue awning.

He walked under the awning and looked around. A few men sat over the bar, nursing strong liquors. They bore morose, uncaring attitudes, plainly trying to drown their sorrows in alcohol. He sat on one of the stools. Someone came in from the back, wiping his hands on a towel.

"You're new," he said. "And you're a duck. What's a walkin' meal doin' here?"

"Trying to find out where I am!" Donald snapped. "I'm not a meal! Anyone who tries to eat me will find themselves crushed by a gravity spell!"

"Will they, now," the man replied indifferently. "Well, yanno what? Money and liquor are th' only spells 'round here, duck. No fancy gravity spells or whatever. You want anything?"

"What is there?"

"Nuffin' much. I rec'mend th' firewhiskey." Without waiting for a reply, the man slid a shot glass of some steaming liquid down the bar to Donald. He carefully picked it up, eying it cautiously.

"What is it? Is it edible?" he asked.

The man shrugged. "Edible enough," he said. He then started to wipe out a glass with a rag. Donald carefully tasted the firewhiskey, then gagged and spat it out. He started coughing violently. The man shook his head and dropped a plate of mushrooms in front of Donald.

"Try chewin' on those," he said, with a hint in his voice that he'd had to deal with this before. "Fly agaric. That oughtta take the bite out."

Donald carefully gnawed on the mushrooms. They were like nothing he'd ever tasted, and he eagerly ate the rest. The man watched, a smirk forming on his face. A few minutes later, Donald left. The man looked at the plate and grinned. The duck had ingested over half the mushrooms.

"Have fun trying to digest _Amanita virosa_. Destroying angel," he murmured. "You'll be dead before you know it." **(1)**

Meanwhile Donald had stumbled into an alley, clutching his stomach. He groaned, face twisted in anguish. He cried out in pain and fell over. He gave a shuddering breath, and lay still. The man from the kiosk stepped out of the shadows, followed by the other customers. The forms of the other customers began to melt and shift, slowly turning to those of Heartless. The man smirked. He slowly let his own illusory disguise fall.

Ansem bent to the duck's still form, looking him over. A slow grin spread across his face.

"Destroying angel never fails," he murmured.

-End part two-

A/N: Heh, so much for Donald and Goofy! Anyway, yes, Goofy's death was the same. B.U.T. Donald got killed by a mushroom! XD w00t, yaoi! Never really intended this fic to have any romance whatsoever, but the yaoi found its way into the first version, and boy howdy did it find its way into this one! XDXDXD

**(1)**: _Amanita virosa_: Of the fly agaric species of wild mushroom. While some fly agarics are relatively innocuous yet hallucinogenic, _A._ _virosa_, or "destroying angel", is quite deadly. When eaten, it tastes like a delicacy, yet within hours of ingestion, you'd die. I had to research psychedelic mushrooms for health class, and destroying angels were mentioned.

So don't do drugs, dear readers! Particularly shrooms, since you're at the mercy of whoever's selling them to you and they might treat them with chemicals to enhance the experience. Besides, psylocibes are illegal.

There. Now you have a little moral lesson from me and you can say you learned something today.

This is going to sound really nerdy, but mycology (study of mushrooms) is actually sort of interesting.

And I'll let you all wonder whether my nerdiness knows no bounds.


	3. Chapter 3

Yep, the Mickey chapter got moved to chappie three, cuz it seemed to make more sense. I think the time frame of the setting is supposed to be whatever time "Peter Pan" takes place in. Whoops, I hope that didn't give too much away… Anyway, without further ado…

-The Tragic Demise of King Mickey-

Mickey slowly walked down the cobblestone street, still trying to figure out how he'd gotten there in the first place.

He was deep in the middle of a cramped neighborhood in a dirty city. The houses, gloomy brick affairs with all the charm of graveyards, loomed on either side of him, packed tight as sardines. A few hollow-eyed children played with a ball outside their homes, casting Mickey dark looks as he passed. The short, fat chimney pots atop the buildings released wisps of smoke that twisted like snakes. In the distance, a factory belched black smoke that blurred and obscured the horizon.

Mickey swallowed uncomfortably, painfully aware of the growing crowd of disconsolate looking teenagers following behind him. One of them kept his hand in his back pocket, obviously gripping a blade of some kind. One of them kicked a pebble. It clattered noisily off the curb. As if that were a signal, the teenagers broke and ran, chasing after Mickey with a grim determination on their faces.

Mickey ran also, trying desperately to avoid them and their scything blades. Mickey raced through the streets, the pack close behind. He ducked into an alley and leaned against the wall, breathing hard, as the teenagers raced past.

"'Allo, guv'nah."

Mickey stifled a yelp and whipped around to face a grimy-looking boy in a cloth cap leaning against the wall. He grinned crookedly at Mickey and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Ye look like yer in a right fix, so ye do," he said. "Gettin' chased by a gang wifout so much as a ha'penny t' yer name…"

"Who are you?" Mickey asked.

"No one special," the boy said with a shrug. "Jus' a soul wot knows the 'ighways, byways, and not-s'-well-known-ways of London, mate. Anyway, 'ow'd ye get yerself chased by a gang?"

"I don't know, I was just passing through," Mickey replied.

"D'ye want ter get outta 'ere in one piece?" the boy asked. He fished a shilling out of his pocket and started flipping it over his fingers from pointer to pinkie and back again, over and over. "I c'n get ye outta 'ear for nuffin 't'all."

"Why do you want to help me?" Mickey inquired, suspicious of the boy's motives.

"Do I need a reason ter want ter 'elp someone?" the boy replied indignantly. "That lot gets on me wick, so I like t' mess wif 'em when th' opportunity arises. I c'n get ye out o' London and away from them." The sounds of the gang drifted to their ears, and the boy stood off the wall. "C'mon, mate. Gots a long ways t' go an' a short time ter get there."

The two set off through the alleys, winding around lampposts and garbage cans, occasionally taking to rooftops in their efforts to avoid the gang.

"There's Piccadilly," the boy said once, pointing to a crowded looking area of stalls. "There's th' Thames," he pointed to a river, "There's th' bridge, and there's Big Ben." Here he pointed to a massive clock rising out of the city like a great fang. "Ol' Big Ben's probably th' safest place for ye at th' mo'. I'll ge' ye there."

Once again they continued their run through the city. Mickey still had his doubts about his young companion, and, not for the first time, wondered what the boy's motives were.

They left the rooftops by way of a fire escape, and continued through the alleys. Mickey couldn't quite place what, but something seemed to be changing on the boy. Whereas before he'd exuded an aura of curiosity and quiet awareness, he now seemed overtly hostile, with an underlying tone Mickey knew he'd sensed before.

"'Urry up!" he frequently snapped. Finally the two reached Big Ben. Mickey stared up in awe at the majesty of the giant clock.

"This way."

Mickey hurried after his young guide, through a door near the base of the clock. Inside it was quite dark, and full of sound from the gears of the clock. Mickey soon lost his guide in the dark.

"Where are you?" he called.

"Up 'ere." Mickey tried in vain to follow the voice, but it seemed the higher he went the louder the gears became, and the less and less likely he was of finding the boy. As he stood on a narrow walkway overlooking a chasm of gigantic gears, he heard a noise behind him and turned. He felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Ansem stood behind him, a calm smirk on his face.

"Better run," he said. Mickey ran. He took off as fast as he could, clambering over gears and springs. He could hear Ansem's footsteps echoing behind him, and he ran faster. He tripped over a gear and slid forward on his chest. He scrambled to his feet and ran on.

As he ran, it seemed to grow lighter. Soon he could see the lighted face of the clock. He skidded to a halt, gazing up at the numbers. They were reversed, since he was looking at them from behind, and there seemed to be something sinister about that to Mickey. He whipped around as he heard the sound of footfalls behind him. He tensed, preparing to summon his Keyblade.

The boy stumbled into view.

"There ye are!" he cried. "Wot're ye doin'? We gots ter get outta here! The gangs found us!"

"Where do we go?" Mickey asked, still mistrustful of the boy.

"Nowhere, mouse!" The boy's voice had suddenly changed. It was shockingly deep and familiar to Mickey. Shadows grew out of the floor and wrapped around the boy. Mickey stared in horrid fascination as the shadows seemed to eat away at the boy's form to be replaced by Ansem's.

"Who was that boy? What did you do with him?" Mickey demanded.

"He was no one, just a disguise," Ansem replied scornfully. Then he started to laugh. "You really are a fool! You ran right into my trap! You have nowhere else to go!"

Mickey looked around. With a sinking feeling, he realized Ansem was right. Gears rose on either side of him, and while Mickey probably could have climbed over them, he didn't want to risk getting crushed. Ansem stood ahead of him. Then he realized there was a door on the clock's face.

"I'm not entirely trapped!" Mickey yelled. He spun around and ran through the door. Behind him, Ansem grinned.

Mickey emerged onto a wooden board hanging from the top. Numerous cleaning supplies rested on either end. He peered over the edge and yelped. The streets of London loomed below him, several stories below him. He backed up against the clock and fell to his knees. He passed a hand over his eyes.

Ansem floated down from somewhere and hovered in front of him.

"Hello, mouse!" he said cheerfully. "Marvelous night to die, no?" Ropes shot out of the air and affixed themselves to Mickey's neck and the minute hand of the clock. One more bound Mickey to the board and clock face.

Mickey lost all hope then. He closed his eyes and remained silent. Ansem floated back a ways and looked at the clock.

"You have fifteen minutes to live. Then the clock will strike midnight and your head will be ripped off," Ansem said conversationally, as if talking about the weather. He adopted a casual pose, floating in the air as if he was stretched out on someone's couch.

Neither exchanged a word as the fifteen minutes slowly ticked by. Ansem's face remained inscrutable as he floated there, and Mickey was absorbed in thoughts of Minnie. Then the minute hand hit the eleven. The rope tightened considerably, making Mickey give a choking sound. Ansem looked over at him.

"Oh good, five minutes left! I was getting so bored waiting for you," he said eagerly. "Any last words?"

Mickey was struggling with the rope tightening around his neck. As the minute hand drew closer to the twelve, the skin on his neck began to tear. Finally, just as the minute hand struck twelve, his head was torn from his body with a spray of blood. His head sailed through the air to be caught by Ansem.

"Alas, poor Mick, I knew ye not!" he said, holding the head at arm's length. Then he snickered. "I think I know what I'm going to do next!"

-

At the Disney castle, Minnie bustled to the door, hearing the doorbell ring. She opened the door and looked around. She could see no one. She frowned and looked down. A large package lay on the doorstep. She picked up the card.

_The Wraith and the Seeker of Darkness send you this with their utmost contempt._

Puzzling the meaning of this, Minnie opened the box. A scream rent the air.

Hidden from view, Ansem and Reivanlocke heard the scream. They both laughed.

-End part three-

A/N: Two bits left! Just Sora and the last bit! XD


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here it is, the long-awaited Sora chappie! Yay! XD

(Waving hand like a Jedi) You want to go listen to Malice Mizer… You want to hear Gackt's awesome voice… You want to hear the wickedness that is "Le Ciel"… Muahahaha!

-The Not-So-Pretty End of Sora-

Sora awoke in an empty room. Looking around, he blinked. The room was small, with a peaked ceiling. Exposed wooden slats in the walls and rafters gave the room an eerie feel, as did the spider webs hanging from the rafters and corners. Sora shivered as a draft floated in through cracks in the walls. He stood and looked out the grimy window. He could see nothing but dry, dead grass and a skeletal tree.

"Where am I?" he asked aloud. There was no reply but the howling of the wind. Sora shivered again and headed to the door. He gave it a cautious shove, and it slowly swung open with a loud screech. He stepped out and looked around.

He seemed to be in a child's room. There was a crib in the corner, a mobile with stars and moons, a rocking horse, and various other things hinting at the very young. However, everything was covered with dust and cobwebs. Sora turned and discovered the door he just left through was hidden behind a bookshelf.

Suddenly Sora got a tremendous thrill of foreboding. He immediately felt like he wanted to turn around, wanted to get out of the room. For a moment he didn't know why. Then an overpowering sense of death struck him. He started shaking uncontrollably, fearing everything in that somewhat sinister excuse for a child's room.

He forced the sensation back and slowly advanced to the crib. Fighting back a feeling of mingled dread and revulsion, Sora peered over the bars. He stumbled back with a cry.

The grinning skull of a baby stared balefully up at him. The child's skeleton was tucked into the covers as if it had died in its sleep. Sora chanced a glance back at it and fought the urge to gag. A spider was crawling out of the eye socket.

Sora stumbled out of the room and to the door. He forced it open, rusty hinges squealing in protest. He hurried down the stairs, but halted on the first landing. He could hear voices.

"Mummy, the baby's dead."

"What? Why?"

Sora peered into the room. A girl and a woman were staring at each other. The woman wore Victorian era clothes, the little girl looking slightly sinister, clad in a plain black dress. Her hair was black too, black as coal. Her skin was deathly pale. The woman looked slightly panicked, yet also disbelieving, as if she wasn't sure she believed the girl.

The girl appeared to think for a moment, then she spoke again. Her voice was high and girlish.

"Because I killed it," she said. "I put things in its bottle."

"Oh, Lord… no…" the mother jumped up and passed the girl. She dashed up the stairs…

…And passed through Sora. Sora gasped. It was like walking through a freezing mist.

"She's dead too."

Sora jumped at the voice. He turned and saw the girl gazing at him. Her eyes were as black as her hair, twin empty pits.

"What do you mean?" Sora asked cautiously.

"I mean just what I said. Everyone in this house is dead. You will be too," the girl said. "Come."

She turned and started to leave the room. Then, realizing Sora wasn't following her, turned back.

"I won't bite you," she said.

Sora followed. Whether she was trustworthy or not, the girl could give Sora information.

"Where are we? How did I get here?" Sora asked.

"You're in my house. And my house is like punishment. The one who controls this house decides who comes here. But the thing is, if you're here, you'll never leave." She turned to Sora. "I am Lucy. I killed my entire family. Have you ever heard of Lizzie Borden?"

"No."

Lucy smiled. " 'Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one,' " she said in a singsong voice. "I killed my family. I was trapped in this house, forced to watch as it falls down around my ears. But I don't mind. I get to relive when I killed my family every day of the week." She smiled eerily at Sora.

"But I was found. The one who found me commanded legions of darkness, and he freed me from my curse," she continued. "Of course, he sent you here, so I guess I get to kill you now." She pulled a large axe out of nowhere. "Start running."

Sora panicked. He whipped around and ran as fast as he could. Behind him he could hear Lucy slamming her axe into the wall as she walked along behind him.

"Oh, I get to kill someone again! That's marvelous!" she sang cheerily behind him. Sora tried to run faster, but caught his foot on a piece of rotting carpet. Lucy caught up and stared down at him.

"That's no fun. I refuse to kill you until you've run for at least ten minutes," she said, pouting. Sora scrambled to his feet and ran again. He looked around for a place to hide. Spying a closet, he yanked the door open.

A worm-eaten corpse fell out on him.

Sora screamed and backed away. Lucy's voice echoed through the hall to meet him.

"You must have met Papa."

Sora ran again. In a state of shock, he ran hard through the house. He slammed into the rotting basement door. It gave way under him, and he nearly tumbled down the stairs into a seething mass of Heartless.

Sora yelped. He backed up and froze as he felt the edge of Lucy's axe pressing into his back.

"Well, you're in a dilemma," Lucy said, sneering slightly. "You can go this way and be killed by me, or you can go that way and, should you make it past the Heartless, face the one who sent you here. What'll it be?"

"I'll take my chances with the Heartless!" Sora yelled before jumping into the mass. Immediately several Shadow and Soldier Heartless swarmed on him, slashing at him with their claws. Sora summoned the Keyblade, and lashed out at them, knocking them aside. More swarmed forward to take their place, and Sora batted them away too. But they kept coming.

Sora fought for the better part of an hour. But for every Heartless he defeated there were three more to take its place. He started to despair of ever getting out.

Then the Heartless abruptly disappeared. Instead, there stood a lone man. Lucy stood next to him, her hand in his.

"Sora, I believe you two have met before," she said, hugging the man's arm. "Of course, you won't be so lucky this time…"

"Be calm, Lucy," Ansem said. He ruffled her hair fondly. Then he looked at Sora. "Have you noticed anything odd about this child, yet?" he asked.

Sora shook his head. Ansem smirked, and took Lucy's axe. Still watching Sora, he made a swift cut on the child's arm. Sora gasped. Darkness oozed from the wound, sizzling where it hit the floor. The wound closed up quickly.

"She's part Heartless," Ansem said softly. "Her parents knew, of course. They were shocked when their firstborn daughter was born without a sound. She never cried, and never has. Her parents tried to raise her like a normal child, but she was always taking small animals and tearing out their hearts. And when her baby brother was born, she took a dislike to him almost instantly."

"The parents were delighted to have a normal child, and started to ignore Lucy. Then she decided to kill them. So she put poison in the baby's bottle, smothered her father, and killed her mother with the axe you see before you." Ansem returned the axe to Lucy. "But she was cursed to stay in this house somehow. I found her, and, realizing the type of curse on her, freed her. And then I sent you to her."

Sora was terrified now. Ansem bade Lucy to stay put, and advanced towards Sora.

"She chased you here, where she knew I waited for you. And now I get to kill you!" Ansem summoned his own weapon, and lashed out at Sora. Sora only managed to block just in time. Even so, he could not prevent himself from falling against the wall. He ducked. He felt something rush by his head as Ansem's weapon embedded itself in the concrete wall.

"Oh, do kill him, Ansem! Cut his head off!" Lucy cried gleefully, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

Ansem spun, swinging the other end of his weapon down in front of Sora's face. Sora screamed. Ansem's weapon had taken off his hand.

"You need to be faster, Sora!" Ansem taunted, pulling his weapon out of the floor.

Sora's mind was in a fog. He couldn't grasp how he'd gotten in this house and how Ansem was still alive. As he made another painful dodge, Sora tried to figure it all out. Unfortunately for him, it was too distracting. Ansem's weapon sliced through his arm.

Sora screamed again, falling to his knees as he tried to staunch the blood flow. Behind him, Ansem grinned.

"Lucy, dear, would you like to hurt him in some way?" Ansem asked. "Or, better yet, why don't you show him your latest two victims?"

"Yay!" Lucy ran to the shadows of the basement and returned dragging two dead bodies. She set them down in front of Sora.

Sora glanced at them. He very nearly fainted.

Kairi's headless body rested before him. Riku's body lay beside it, a slash in its throat and an ugly wound on the chest.

Sora felt helpless rage consuming him. He struggled to his feet and launched himself at Ansem. Ansem sidestepped him easily. Sora spun around and swung his Keyblade wildly, blindly hoping to hit Ansem. Ansem laughed in his face.

"Stop… laughing!" Sora screamed. He lashed out again, hitting nothing but air.

"You do know it's not exactly a good idea to fight when you're mad? You might make a mistake," Ansem said scornfully. He stood several feet away. Then he grinned and disappeared.

Sora stared around wildly, senses on edge. He cried out as something embedded itself in his stomach. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He looked up through darkening vision at Ansem. Ansem grinned at him and ripped upwards. Sora was flayed open from stomach to head.

Ansem stared at Sora and the immense pool of blood forming under the corpse.

"You'll release me now, won't you?" Lucy asked, sounding for the first time in her life like a nine-year-old girl. "You said you would…"

"Of course, Lucy," Ansem replied, eyes softening as he turned to her. She ran to him and clung to his waist. Ansem gently wrapped his arms around her, muttering indistinct words under his breath. Soon Lucy started to grow limp. Her eyes started to close, and she sagged against Ansem. Her grip loosened and she began to fall. Ansem caught her and gently lowered her to the floor. "Good bye."

"Good bye, Ansem…" And with that the Heartless child finally died, finally at peace since she'd been born.

Ansem stared at her body for a moment, then summoned two Neoshadow Heartless.

"Go bury her body in the backyard, under the tree," he instructed them. "Be careful." Had the Heartless noticed, they would have realized his voice sounded constricted. The two Heartless picked up Lucy's still form, and carried it away. Ansem sighed.

"I think I'll spend the night at Sephiroth's… then I'll go see Reivanlocke," he murmured to himself. There was something strange in his manner, as if something within him had been broken.

-

"So why didn't you let her live? She sounded like a right trip."

"I promised her, Sephiroth. I told her I'd release her once I'd killed Sora, and you know I never make a promise I won't keep."

Ansem and Sephiroth were lying side by side in Sephiroth's bedroom, Sephiroth holding his lover close.

"Did you know you would miss her this much when you promised that?" Sephiroth asked, running his fingers through Ansem's hair.

"…No." Ansem closed his eyes and cuddled closer to Sephiroth. Sephiroth smiled and shook his head.

"Ansem… my love, when will you ever learn to trust your emotions and not ignore them?" he asked softly.

Ansem gave a quiet chuckle. "I do," he replied. "If I didn't, do you think I would love you as much as I do?" Sephiroth smiled.

"Who knows?" he murmured as he pulled Ansem atop him. Ansem grinned, then kissed Sephiroth.

"I don't," he replied as they parted. "I do know this, though… you are the only one for me. Never fear, for I will never leave you. You are indelibly engraved in my heart, and there you remain, forever and a day."

"And I would never wish to be anywhere else," Sephiroth said as he switched off the light.

-End part four-

A/N: Okies, one chappie left! XD

Anyway, Lucy! Yes, I love Lucy. She's this weird little OC I came up with around last Christmas. If you want to see what she looks like, go to my deviantART site. Link in me bio. She'll be buried down in the gallery somewhere… (Shrugs)

Ah, poor Ansem! XD It's just so much fun to toy with his heart! …Did I say that out loud? (Evil grin)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Yes! Finally, the end of this fic! That means next week I can finally post the sequel! ISN'T THAT MARVELOUS? About bloody time! The sequel's been sitting around for months now, going through change after change after bloody change.

Damn… can't think of any witty way of saying, "Go listen to Malice Mizer!"…

-Epilogue-

Ansem returned to Reivanlocke's apartment the next evening after assuring Sephiroth he'd be back. He didn't want to leave his lover again, but he had to give Sora's body to Reivanlocke.

He pushed open the door to the darkened apartment and threw Sora's body to the floor. It made a soft thud as it landed. He looked around, eyes roving over things such as the couch and the table. He frowned.

"Reivanlocke?" he called. "Are you here?"

There was no answer. Starting to feel a sense of foreboding, Ansem advanced slowly into the room, occasionally looking at the furniture outlined in moonlight. He paused at the desk, hands passing over the book that lay there. He absently began tracing the letters by feel.

"N… e…" he murmured. He heard a slam from the window and whipped around. The windows were open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Ansem swallowed, feeling a faint twinge of fear. He forced it back, and walked to the windows, intent on closing them. Before he did so, however, he stood staring at the crowds below. His fist clenched impulsively and he tore his gaze away.

Ansem tugged the windows shut and wished he hadn't. Without the sound of the curtains fluttering and the wind sighing, it was dreadfully silent in the gloomy apartment.

Ansem stood by the window, senses keyed to their extent to hear or see something that likely wasn't there in the first place. He sensed there was something in the apartment with him, but he couldn't tell what. He took a steadying breath and moved away from the desk. He froze.

He had heard the distinctive ringing sound of a blade being unsheathed.

Unmoving, Ansem stared around the darkened apartment. Somewhere, a clock chimed, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The clock slowly chimed out the hour as Ansem tried to steady his pounding heart. He turned, staring out the window as it started to storm. Lightning flashed, illuminating the streets below the apartment. The thunder, sounding twice as menacing in Reivanlocke's empty apartment, rumbled sinisterly.

Ansem kept his senses on high alert as he slowly made his way to the door. Something was amiss here. He decided to just leave Sora's body and return to Sephiroth.

"I don't think so."

At the sound of that familiar voice, Ansem stood stock-still. A serious mistake. A blade whizzed out of the shadows and embedded itself to the hilt in Ansem's back.

Ansem made a choking noise and fell to his knees, blood streaming down his back, soaking his shirt, staining it crimson. Reivanlocke stepped out of the shadows, a curious gleam in her eyes.

"You were… useful, I suppose. But you know my name," she drawled. "I don't allow anyone who knows my name to live." She absently rubbed the top of her hand. She walked forward and grasped the handle of her knife. She pulled it free, ignoring Ansem's gasp of pain.

Reivanlocke bent to his level. "Thanks for doing my dirty work," she said sweetly. "You saved me some time. But now you must die." She plunged the knife into his back again, dragging it upwards somewhat. Ansem couldn't even cry out. Reivanlocke's face remained inscrutable as she slowly withdrew the knife. Then, as if in a fit of anger, she snapped the blade off an inch from the hilt. She rammed it hard into Ansem's back, burying it deep within him.

"Have fun getting that out!" she snarled. She seized Sora's corpse and disappeared from the apartment, leaving Ansem to lie on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

Ansem could feel his body shutting down. He knew he was dying. Sephiroth's face and form flashed repeatedly in his mind. Ansem felt a crushing depression settling over him. They had just been reunited… he promised he'd be back…

Almost as if someone had beamed it into his mind, Ansem saw a vision of Sephiroth. His lover was sitting by the window with a book open in his lap. He wasn't reading it, though. He was staring out the window, waiting for Ansem to return. He glanced up at a clock on the wall and sighed.

The vision faded.

Ansem slowly clenched his fists.

"I never… make a promise… I won't keep…" he murmured. Slowly, he pushed himself up, wincing as the blade in his back scraped against his ribs. He levered himself up against the wall, leaning heavily on it. He screwed up his face as pain rocketed through his body. Little by little, he dragged himself out of the apartment and down the stairs, leaving a trail of blood as he went.

He made it out into the pouring rain. He stared out for a moment, feeling the rain wash away his blood. Gradually, he headed down the street, leaning on buildings for support. The rain obliterated the trail of blood he left behind.

-

Sephiroth was now quite concerned. Ansem had promised he'd return. He'd left several hours ago. Sephiroth unconsciously rubbed his arms, as if chilled. He could sense something had happened to his lover, but he didn't know what. He jumped wildly as the doorbell rang. He put his book down and went to the door.

Ansem stood on the other side, face twisted with pain.

"I'm… back," he joked feebly. Then he swayed on the spot and fell against Sephiroth.

"Oh, god…" Sephiroth murmured, supporting Ansem. He'd seen his lover's back. He carried him inside and gently laid him down. He carefully pulled off Ansem's shirt, using a pocketknife to cut it away in places. He gave a moan of sympathy when he saw Ansem's back.

Ansem whimpered, his muscular form drenched in sweat. His back was covered in blood, the vicious wounds on his back still bleeding freely. A piece of metal winked at Sephiroth from one near Ansem's shoulder blade. Sephiroth lightly passed his fingers over Ansem's back, wincing as his lover cried out.

"There's a blade stuck in your back," Sephiroth murmured, half to himself. Ansem nodded, unable to speak. "I have to get it out. I'm going to try and pull it out, okay?"

Ansem nodded again, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. Sephiroth steeled himself, then slipped his fingers into the wound. Ansem nearly cried out, a moan escaping past his teeth. Sephiroth's fingers slowly withdrew from the wound, taking the blade as well. He tossed the blade into the trash and pressed Ansem's shirt to the wound with his other hand. He stared briefly at his hand, covered in the blood of his lover. A lump rose in his throat.

"It's gone, my love," he whispered. Ansem's breathing was ragged. Sephiroth hoped beyond hope the blade hadn't entered his lover's lungs. "I'm so sorry… my love, my angel, my life, I'm sorry…"

He dressed Ansem's wounds as best he could, and carried him to the bedroom. He gently laid him down, cringing with every sound of pain Ansem made, no matter how soft.

"Oh, my love… my poor love… What happened to you? Who did this?" Sephiroth whispered.

-End "Death to Disney". To be continued in "Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow".-

A/N: Wow. This chapter was as short in the rewrite as in the original, if not shorter. Oh well, so be it. Yep, I sure like this version better, that I do. Whatever.

Okay! Next week the sequel will go up, since I wrote it ages ago. W00t!


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